Author's note: This is an excerpt from my private journal entry dated January 24, 2011
You can't underestimate the safety of one's own room. A shut door provides a motherly comfort to those needing an escape. My room is the only sanctuary I know. When I step into the hallway (or on more courageous days the pavement), an inevitable tenseness invades my body and paralyzes my limbs. When confronted with another I rarely speak and never look them in the eye. I partly do this out of fear. But mostly I do this so they can't see the horror which is my face. My sincerest apologies to everyone who has witnessed this fucking monstrosity. I wish it were socially acceptable to wear a mask daily instead of only one night of the year. Perhaps I could face paint and express my inner juggalo? Nah. I'm not a visibly expressive person. I like words. They're safer.
I can't leave the house most days. I'm afraid of the world as though I were agoraphobic. But what is it I fear, exactly? Today, at least, I'm afraid no one sees me as I am (whoever that is) but they see me as I see myself. I think that is one of my biggest fears. My self-perception as worthless is ingrained into my subconscious at such depth the first inkling of confirmation from another sends me into an avoidant and severely depressed pit. I keep thinking what if I meet someone whom I really care for and the slightest hint of rejection sends me into one of these spirals, could this be the motivation to finally end it all? My fantasy love lives always end with me in a coffin. (Even in fantasy I can't see a future in which I'm living). My life is empty of meaning and has been forbidden the graces of love. Is there anything I'm living for?
It's in the afternoon. I'm guessing I sat down to write this around 2 o' clock, its sitting at sixteen after. I bet somewhere in my city or anywhere in the Pacific timezone a couple is lying on a folded blanket in the park snuggling while they listen to the harmonious flow of the nearby lake. At this moment there isn't anyone in the world but them. Envy has stricken my heart as I stare out this veiled window. Arielle, a youtuber, asked on her twitter and facebook a question on what love feels like? I know it as pain and nothing else. But I read replies she received from others expressing how joyous and enriching it has made their lives. God do they know the gift they have been given? And the gift isn't just falling in love and having it returned. But whats it like to fall in love without feeling guilty of selfish desire? When I loved Richie it was the guilt which nearly killed me. In retrospect it was this guilt which lifted me to new heights of my Avoidant disorder. I wonder now if I weren't sick could we have been the couple in the park by the lake? I like to think so but that's the fool in me.
Thursday, January 27, 2011
Monday, January 17, 2011
Life without Depression?
Tonight I browsed through picture albums of a facebook friend. We met six years ago during our senior year of high school (she sat behind me in English), but despite numerous opportunities we have never become closer than acquaintances. I take the fault in this, as it is I with the Avoidant disorder and until recently, to her, I must have fallen off the face of the earth. I joined facebook just two weeks ago, in which I requested her friendship, thus reappearing. I think it was 2008 the last time I had seen/spoken to her. And in 2008 I was squarely immersed in the Avoidant tendencies I am now trying to overcome (by joining facebook, twitter, and starting this blog). On January 11th she turned 24, so I wished her a happy birthday. On January 14th I sent her a message inquiring how she was. Communication lines opened. (p.s. she has replied back)
When we met six years ago I was an unmedicated, undiagnosed Clinical Depressive. When I wasn't morose out of my skull I had a great deal of anxiety and proved to be quite the eccentric. An outlandishly horrid first impression on any level. In my yearbook she wrote, and I paraphrase, "you're weird but still cool." Weird? I assure you I was fucking insane! (I wasn't aware at the time, but the anxiety was a definite precursor to my future Avoidant behavior) To my surprise we came across each others' paths a few times after high school. Most encounters were at college, and I remember one when I unknowingly stopped by her work for a quick burger while I awaited my movie at the cinema to start. College is one thing, considering the campus and that we never once had a class together (yet still crossed paths). But for me to randomly show up at her work? The romantic in me says fate. The skeptic in me says opportunities (which I undeniably failed) But don't misunderstand me, I'm not interested in her in that way. This isn't nostalgia of "what could have been." But I do feel as though we could have been friends. And that's the loss I'm feeling. Jaime (the girl) has never met me; not as I am today. She knew me before I received any help (when I was sinking). I'm afraid the image I have left her may be permanently imprinted in her mind and she will be unable to accept how I have changed and how I have stabilised. I'm also afraid that after these turbulent years the friendship possibilities I encountered and subsequently failed were the only chances I will have.
I guess my self-revelation for tonight is I want to be her friend.
I noticed when I was browsing through her pictures that she smiled in at least 90 % of them. She smiled. When you take into effect the nine years I now have been struggling with Depression; a constant theme is the perception of bleak existence. I can't help but wonder what is life like without Depression? What life is she living which gives her her smile?
Life without Depression? It seems so far away.
When we met six years ago I was an unmedicated, undiagnosed Clinical Depressive. When I wasn't morose out of my skull I had a great deal of anxiety and proved to be quite the eccentric. An outlandishly horrid first impression on any level. In my yearbook she wrote, and I paraphrase, "you're weird but still cool." Weird? I assure you I was fucking insane! (I wasn't aware at the time, but the anxiety was a definite precursor to my future Avoidant behavior) To my surprise we came across each others' paths a few times after high school. Most encounters were at college, and I remember one when I unknowingly stopped by her work for a quick burger while I awaited my movie at the cinema to start. College is one thing, considering the campus and that we never once had a class together (yet still crossed paths). But for me to randomly show up at her work? The romantic in me says fate. The skeptic in me says opportunities (which I undeniably failed) But don't misunderstand me, I'm not interested in her in that way. This isn't nostalgia of "what could have been." But I do feel as though we could have been friends. And that's the loss I'm feeling. Jaime (the girl) has never met me; not as I am today. She knew me before I received any help (when I was sinking). I'm afraid the image I have left her may be permanently imprinted in her mind and she will be unable to accept how I have changed and how I have stabilised. I'm also afraid that after these turbulent years the friendship possibilities I encountered and subsequently failed were the only chances I will have.
I guess my self-revelation for tonight is I want to be her friend.
I noticed when I was browsing through her pictures that she smiled in at least 90 % of them. She smiled. When you take into effect the nine years I now have been struggling with Depression; a constant theme is the perception of bleak existence. I can't help but wonder what is life like without Depression? What life is she living which gives her her smile?
Life without Depression? It seems so far away.
Thursday, January 13, 2011
Identity (as seen thru a cloaked veil)
I'm nobody! Who are you?
Are you nobody, too?
- Emily Dickinson
How does one escape their definition?
Since the fall of 2001 my life has been stricken with the disease affectionately known as Depression. (Fellow brethren, chuck 'affectionately' and put in any word you see fit.) For these last nine years I have seen my mirrored reflection and witnessed nothing but Depression's cloak. To my eyes we are the same entity; we are One. (soul mates)
I assume when others look at me, it is the darkness which prevails on their sight. It is this darkness which tilts their heads away and paralyzes any desire to look again. In my mind this darkness is my entire being.
My heart is fragile and shatters with ease. The mask I wear which speaks of cold ambivalence is a lie. I care deeply for others, and for their opinions of me. When I see them look away, or when they don't look at all, my face stones into an expressionless state. I wish I was as numb as I appear.
Coherent thought has abandoned me today. Looking above I can't seem to string more than a few sentances together. I promise that will change when my mind becomes less clouded.
Are you nobody, too?
- Emily Dickinson
How does one escape their definition?
Since the fall of 2001 my life has been stricken with the disease affectionately known as Depression. (Fellow brethren, chuck 'affectionately' and put in any word you see fit.) For these last nine years I have seen my mirrored reflection and witnessed nothing but Depression's cloak. To my eyes we are the same entity; we are One. (soul mates)
I assume when others look at me, it is the darkness which prevails on their sight. It is this darkness which tilts their heads away and paralyzes any desire to look again. In my mind this darkness is my entire being.
My heart is fragile and shatters with ease. The mask I wear which speaks of cold ambivalence is a lie. I care deeply for others, and for their opinions of me. When I see them look away, or when they don't look at all, my face stones into an expressionless state. I wish I was as numb as I appear.
Coherent thought has abandoned me today. Looking above I can't seem to string more than a few sentances together. I promise that will change when my mind becomes less clouded.
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